Daughter of Pirates
by ThePotterGeek
Summary: This is the new story of Neglana Turner, daughter of our favorite couple, William Turner Jr. and Elizabeth Swann! Read, enjoy, and review! On hold, mostly because I have no idea what to do with it.
1. From a Threat to a Friend

**Hey all. So I decided that Daughter of Pirates was pretty bad. I mean… it was just terrible. I know some of you (maybe like one… or am I being too hopeful?) may have liked it, and I am SO sorry… but I deleted it. But here it is, new and improved.**

**So hopefully this version won't suck as much. Hopefully there'll be better a better plot, for starters. And perhaps, in this, the original characters won't be so OOC. It's possible that my characters will have a little more substance, as well. Well, here goes… (deep breath)**

**Eh. I don't own this. If I did… hmm… I don't know what I would do. But it certainly wouldn't be so popular, if I had come up with it. That's for sure. I decided that I'm really bad at thinking up drama and plotlines. So I'm going to start off this story, which will not have that much plot in it at first, and then stop, trying desperately to think of where I want this to end up.**

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The rock upon which Neglana stood was comfortable and solid, just high enough above the churning ocean to give her a thrill, the water below just deep enough to scare her a bit. Here, she didn't have to worry about being disturbed; the wealthy who inhabited Port Royal would never think of ruining their clothes on the beach, and the working class… well, they had too much work to do to even think of enjoying themselves, especially in a place so far away from their comfort zone as the beach. This was her spot. She had found it when she had been wandering, and no one else knew about it, as far as she could tell. She loved it here. When nights were warm (and they usually were, in Jamaica), she slept here, to keep from having to sleep in the filthy, dingy streets of the town.

Not that Neggie was particularly clean herself. Being a homeless girl who had just been forced out of the orphanage, she hadn't had a real bath in weeks, just swimming in the ocean, which left her covered in sea salt and not much better off than she had started. She was also a bit of a fugitive, having to steal to eat, because no one would give her a job. Everyone knew about the strange, nameless girl who had showed up on the orphanage doorstep as an infant, with nothing but a note giving her first name and birthdate. Most shunned her, for she was wild and without boundaries, not following proper etiquette or codes of honor that children of her wretched state were expected to follow.

But Neggie didn't want to follow rules. She wanted to be completely free, without a care or responsibility. But she had no way of being free, being imprisoned by her own poverty. She would just have to stay in Port Royal and wrestle out a living.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Neggie whirled around, whipping out the dagger that had mysteriously appeared in her room on her ninth birthday. She had a pretty good handle on it, having practiced with it every moment she was alone, usually staying up very late mastering its use. Slowly and silently, she crept over to the edge of the rock and looked down.

Coming towards her, climbing and slightly breathless, was a boy of about her age. His straight blonde hair was tied back away from eyes, but some had slipped out of the tie and was sticking to his sweaty, freckled face. Neggie couldn't get a proper judge of his form or abilities from her angle, but she crept back to hide herself from sight for as long as possible. She was trying to figure out what she'd do when he did see her when his face topped the rise.

His startlingly blue eyes widened in surprise and he looked like a startled deer, frozen before the dash for survival. Neggie didn't give the potential threat time to recover. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I- I'm Chris James. I was just coming to sit up here. I like it up here. I didn't think anyone else knew about it."

Neggie smiled easily and put the dagger away, into its sheath in her belt. "Me neither. I liked this 'specially _because _I didn't think anyone knew 'bout it."

He returned her grin, white teeth nearly getting lost in his pale face. "Me too. I don't much like company." He clambered up onto the top, and plopped down beside her. "Who're you?"

"Neggie."

"Neggie what?"

"Neggie nothing. Just Neggie."

"Neggie's an awfully strange name."

"Well, full is Neglana, but that sounds even stranger."

His eyes widened. "_You're_ Neglana?"

Her face darkened. "Yeah, that's me. Everyone knows Neglana No-Surname."

He giggled. "What's so funny?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

"You just gave yourself a surname. No-Surname." He chuckled again.

She rolled her eyes. "How old are you, anyway?"

He puffed out his chest. "I'll be twelve in a month. You?"

She screwed up her face in thought for a second. "I think I'll be…" She trailed off, staring into space. "What month is it?"

"July. Anyone should know, the way the air is, all sticky and hot."

"Well, then, I'll be twelve on January tenth. So I'm a little younger than you."

His chest went out even farther. "So how long've you been here?" she asked, to get off the topic of ages. She disliked being bested.

"Us? We've been here forever, almost. My papa's grandpa was one of the first people who came to live here, when the port was founded. You?"

"Well, I dunno about my papa's grandpa. I dunno who my papa is. But I've been here forever. Or it seems that way. Perhaps its 'cause I don't know nothing else. I've been ere all my life."

He nodded. "Me too. I wish I could see more, but papa won't take me anywhere with him. He's a merchant, see, and he's been all over Europe and the Caribbean. But I haven't gone with him yet. Says when I'm older, he'll take me. But I'm almost twelve! When's 'older'?"

Neggie nodded in understanding. "One day, I'm gonna get myself outta here. Get on a ship and sail the ocean forever. Wind in my hair and the sea beneath me… that's heaven, for me."

Chris grinned, relishing in the dream, too. "Maybe… I could go with you?"

She smiled back at them. "Sure. Forever without company would be a pretty long time. But," her face fell, "you wouldn't mind leaving? Leaving your mum and dad? Your home?"

"Nah. We can come back and visit. I'm sure we won't hate it as much if we're not here that often."

Neggie's smile widened. "Maybe." They were now both imagining standing side by side on a ship, free of all bonds.

"So it's a deal?" Chris held out his hand. "If you go, you have to take me with you?"

Smiling, she shook. "Deal."

They then settled themselves side by side with their feet dangling over the side of the rock. They were silent, but they didn't need words, not quite yet. They had reached an understanding.

Quickly, that understanding turned into friendship. In their free time (in Neggie's case, when she wasn't stealing; in Chris's case, when he wasn't helping his father), they would meet and play on the rock. When they were young, they would pretend, being pirates, knights, royalty, and every other thing the young mind can invent.

As they grew older, Chris began working for a baker, at first simply hauling things like water and flour, soon beginning to learn the craft from the man. Chris lied to his father about his salary, and used the money that didn't go to his family to save up for swordplay lessons from the blacksmith's apprentice, a boy of nineteen. He would then teach Neggie what he had learned with sticks. Eventually, he saved up enough to buy himself a sword of his own.

His father was extremely successful, and was able to spend more time at home with his family, but never did he take his son with him on his voyages, much to Chris's disappointment.

Neggie, on the other hand, didn't have it nearly as good. Since no one would give her a job, even though she had gotten older and matured, and would have given up her old wild ways had someone paid her, she remained an urchin. Since no one gave her a job, she had to steal food, and that made her even less trustworthy, and even less likely to get a job, all in a downward spiral that just kept going on. She was constantly on the run from authorities, and often times used Chris's house as a hiding spot. It was well known that the two had been friends as younger children, but now, no one was really quite sure, so there, Neggie was safe for short periods of time.

Despite people's doubts, the two were still as close as ever. After they both grew out of playing pretend, they would simply sit on the rock, side by side, and talk. The topics varied: their dreams, fantasies, daily routines; they never tired of each other's company. When they would run out of things to talk of (which rarely happened), they were content to remain silent, not needing to fill the air with pointless chatter, just as they had when they were eleven.

Neggie made do with having just a dagger among the cutthroat scum that was the poorest of the poor in Port Royal. That is, until she was presented with a sword, bought for her by Chris once he'd saved up enough. With her new sword, and Chris's comparatively old one, they would fence on and around their rock, each becoming better and better. They didn't try as hard on each other unless they could get some kind of armor, but even so, they each had their fair share of scars where they had been nipped by the tip of their friend's sword, and there were many extra nicks in their rock for when they were a bit overzealous.

Chris had no problem wearing his sword out for the world to see; for Neggie, however, this was more of a problem. Women weren't supposed to carry weapons, so she wore loose trousers and kept her sword hidden beneath them. She assumed she wouldn't have to use it very often; she just had it in case. Since she lived in a wealthy port city, there were several pirate raids, and she was able to defend herself and others with the sword. When the panic died down, no one remembered she owned a weapon, and everyone was disappointed that she hadn't died in the raid. Except for Chris, of course.

Life for the two rapidly growing adolescents was routine, but very far from boring. It wasn't until about a month after Chris turned seventeen that their everyday schedule was interrupted at all.

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**Hope you like. I like this a whole lot more than my other one. And I have the next few chapters planned, somewhat. What I'm going to do with the plot… that's completely undecided. But I'll spend the next little while setting the stage and introducing you to the story and characters. But don't worry- plenty will happen. **

**Review please!**

**-Arnold-**


	2. Friendship is a Warm Gun

**Well, whaddaya know? I'm finally updating! Er, sort of. More like deleting and rethinking my storyline. I'm so terribly sorry. Just in case you didn't know, I changed a few bits in the first chapter. Not much, though. I think you'll be okay reading this chapter without the help of the last. But I'm warning you, this one is significantly different than last time. If there was something you like that's missing (and DON'T tell me Jack Sparrow-- he's coming, he's coming!), tell me in a review, and I'll see if I can work it in. I'm also open to suggestions. I'm going to need all the help I can get.**

**I don't own Pirates Of The Caribbean. However, I pride myself on owning the two main characters of this story. See? I _can_ be original!**

**And by the way, the chapter title is a play on the name of a Beatles song called 'Happiness is a Warm Gun,' for all of you that aren't a Beatles freak/haven't seen _Across the Universe._  
**

Daughter of Pirates: Chapter Two  
Friendship is a Warm Gun

"Stop! Thief!"

Neggie was running, faster than she had run all week. In her fleeing state of mind, she liked to think that it was faster than she had ever run in her life, but after stealing a whole bundle of jerky last Wednesday, she had to make quite an escape. At the moment, the sixteen year old girl didn't remember this, as she picked her way through the twisting, confusing streets and alleys that made up the common city of Port Royal.

In a moment of stupidity, Neggie looked behind her, to see how fast the fruit peddler was pursuing her for just three apples. Not paying attention to where she was going sent her careening into another merchant, a friend of the fruit seller's. _Must've seen me running past and went around,_ Neggie's panicked brain thought as the man gripped her hair and dragged her head back, knife in his free hand.

"You've stolen your last meal, girl," he growled, pressing the knife to her throat. "Is your death wish to eat it?" His eyes were angry and mocking, bulging out of their sockets in order to express his emotions more clearly.

Neggie forced herself to quickly calm down. Her hands were free; the man didn't think of that, or didn't think she could do him much damage. Immediately she grabbed the hilt of her dagger, whipping it under his arm so she could push his knife away from her exposed neck. He was so surprised at her quick movements his grip on his weapon slackened; she knocked it out of his hand. She twisted his arms behind his back and held her knife to his throat now. "Tell _anyone_ what went on just now, and I'll kill you, understand?" If anyone knew she was armed, she was in big trouble. Urchins weren't allowed to own daggers.

He struggled wildly, and she fought to keep her grip on him. Pressing the blade harder, so that she drew a few drops of blood, she repeated, "_Understand_?"

The mad nodded, and she let him go. He collapsed in relief. Cursing, she realized how much time had been wasted. The fruit seller was nearly on her. He had turned a corner, and was running right at her.

Neggie spun and flew, dodging people and carts easily, never losing a hair's worth of speed. She smiled to herself: _now_ she was running faster than last week.

She heard a roar behind her: the peddler. Another warlike cry followed: he had friends.

Reaching a house, she ran over to the far side, trying to catch her breath.

The men on the other side, assorted shopkeepers and street sellers, grinned. They had her. This was a dead end. They split up and went around the house. When they peered around the corner, all they saw was each other. Neglana was nowhere in sight.

Swearing fluently, the fruit peddler scanned all around. He even looked up to the balcony of the house she'd hidden behind.

Spewing more foul language, each of the men grumpily returned to their wares, disappointed that they weren't able to catch the girl that had been a thorn in their sides for nearly seven years.

About ten feet above them, a young man was holding his big hand over Neggie's mouth to keep her quiet, while her shoulders shook with laughter. Once Chris was sure that every last one was gone, he dragged Neggie out onto the balcony and shut the door, so his parents wouldn't hear him conversing with a criminal.

"_Neggie!_" he hissed, still keeping his voice quiet, fearing someone listening below.

The girl shrugged, still giggling. "I needed to make _some_ escape, Chris. This place is very convenient."

"If somebody sees you here-"

"They _won't_. I make sure of that. I know how to work the streets; I've been doing it half a decade already. You learn fast, or you wash out, that's the deal with being a thief! I know it all!"

"Couldn't you stay out of trouble for _one-_"

Her stomach interrupted. "Breakfast!" she said cheerily. She pulled out two apples, and offered one to Chris. He waved his hand, shooing the fruit away, muttering, "I don't eat stolen goods."

Neggie shrugged, as if to say 'More for me', and dug in. That was always his excuse. She knew it was really because he could afford to eat- she could not.

There was silence as she took her first few bites of the fruit.

"Anyway," she said, steering both of their minds off the subject, words slightly muffled by apple, "why would you care if they found out you were friends with me? We could steal a ship and sail out of here, like we always dreamed."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Stop living in the dream, Neggie. Get used to reality."

She raised her eyebrows at him. That had been a thoughtless remark. Of the two of them, she knew the cruelties of reality more than he did. He only knew about how life was for the lowest of the low through her. Had they never met, he'd likely never have the sympathy for the city's urchins that he did now.

He looked down, sheepish, but Neggie ducked her head in order to meet his eyes. "That dream is really all that keeps me going. What's the point of living if there's nothing to live for? So I have that, and I have you." She smiled up at him. "The worst part about death is that I'd have to wait a good long time to ever see you again."

Pleased and embarrassed, Chris looked away, and this time, Neggie let him.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments, until Chris broke it. "My father wants to take me with him on a voyage."

Neggie's heart sank, but she kept it from her face. This was what her friend had been hoping for since he'd been old enough to dream, and she'd be happy for him if it killed her.

"Chris, that's _wonderful_."

He smiled at her, but it looked forced, which puzzled her.

"Did he finally decide that you're 'older'?" He smiled a little wider at the old joke.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Chris, what's _wrong_ with you? When we were younger this is all you'd talk about! If you were still thirteen, you'd be jumping for joy!"

"That was before I worried so much about you."

"Oh, Chris… Don't let me be the one to get in your way. I can take care of myself, remember?"

"Not as well as I can."

Neggie rolled her eyes.

"And didn't we always dream of sailing the seas _together_? Side by side, the wind in our hair, no cares, no responsibilities?"

"Well, technically, _I_ promised to take you with _me_ if _I_ ever got away from here, never the other way around."

"Because I always thought that of the two of us, you'd be the one to escape first. I figured that if father hadn't taken me by twelve, I'd never be going… but here I am."

Neggie looked at the floor for a moment, then asked, "When do you set sail?"

"In two days. First light."

There was a longer pause. "How long?"

"A month. Father didn't want to take me on _too_ long of a voyage for my first time."

Neggie pushed herself off from the railing on which she'd been leaning. "So I'll see you in two days, at first light." Grinning wickedly, she made to jump down, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

"Don't see me off. It's too dangerous."

When she didn't say anything, just smiled innocently, he sighed and said, "Take care of yourself. And try to stay out of trouble for a while, all right?"

She gave him a cocky salute. "Aye-aye, cap'n!" Then she tossed her apple core and swung over the side of the railing, landing catlike on her feet in the alley below. Then she strolled off, munching on the other apple, taking care to avoid being seen. Shaking his head, Chris finished getting ready.

--

Sunrise two days later found Chris on Port Royal's main dock getting ready to board his father's vessel. He paced, waiting for all the other men to board before him. He knew that he was dawdling, but he was reluctant to leave Neggie all alone.

A shady figure, hooded and cloaked, caught his eye. Praying that it wasn't who he thought it was, he made excuses to his father and strode toward it.

The rising sun's rays hit Neggie's tanned, dirty face, with wickedly glittering dark eyes to match the grin.

He pulled her into a hug. "You're an idiot," Chris said softly, but he held her tightly nonetheless.

"I couldn't let my best friend go off for a month without saying goodbye, now could I?"

"If you'd wanted to keep your head attached to your body, you could've."

She laughed and let go. After hesitating for a second, she kissed him on the cheek and said, "_Bon voyage_, _monsieur._"

He grinned while resisting the urge to rub the spot where she'd kissed him. "I'll miss you, Neggie."

She waved the comment away. "You'll be back before you know it." Giving him one last, quick hug, she turned and walked back towards land.

Shaking his head at his friend's abruptness, he turned and began to walk towards the ship with a lighter heart than he'd had before. Never mind what he had told Neggie-- he was glad she came.

A gunshot rang through the still air, making Chris whip around to see what the trouble was.

Blood was oozing out of a fleeing Neggie's arm, which dropped the cloak it had been holding. Chris silently cursed his friend for stealing the thing and inflicting someone's wrath upon herself.

While most men would have let her go, this man would not. Yelling something along the lines of "I'm going to rid Port Royal of your thieving hands," he tore after her, determined to catch her.

Fearing for Neggie's life and not caring anymore about his reputation, Chris sprinted after the two, ignoring his father's calls.

Neggie quickly evaluated the situation. She couldn't run back into the city: too much of a chance of being caught. So she turned and headed up the beach towards the rocks, hoping to gain some cover there. Meanwhile, the man was gaining on her.

Her feet led her up the familiar rock that was the favorite of her and Chris. Her hands and feet got her to the top easily. There, she turned and pulled out her sword in the same movement, and waited.

The man's head topped the rise, and with a roar he put up the pistol. Instinctively, Neggie took a step back. The rock crumbled at the edge, and she lost her footing and fell.

The distance from the top to the water had been a thrill when she was younger, the water a scare. Not enough to harm her, but enough to make her feel brave. She had never actually thought she'd fall, so she had failed to take into account the jagged edges of the boulders in the water below. She hit her head and was immediately unconscious and under, blood dying the water red.

Her pursuer, seeing this as an easy solution to the problem, smiled and put his gun away. He thought he would go home free and clear, but his pursuer had other ideas. As he jumped off the face of the rock, he was met by a young man crazy with anger, who punched him in the face, knocking _him_ unconscious.

Chris shoved his way desperately through the water to her lifeless body. He pulled her from the water that only reached his stomach. Not even bothering to haul himself from the ocean, he shook his friend, whispering nonsense that wouldn't bring her back.

He didn't notice the ship pull itself from the waves, nor the rowboat that was lowered off of it that started towards them. He _did_ notice when someone tried to pry Neggie from his grip. He noticed, and fought off the man trying to do it. Looking at the man, Chris was filled with a blind fury as he tried once again to pry Chris's fingers away from the girl who meant so much to him. "No! You can't have her!" The words were torn from his lips before he realized he meant to say them. Never mind what he was taking her for. He was trying to part Chris from Neggie. And that would just not do.

"Let go, boy!" the man yelled, "Let her go!"

"No!" The man's fingers found a spot on Chris's wrist and pressed hard. Pain seared up his arm, making him drop Neggie. The man pulled her into the boat, and rowed away. Chris didn't hesitate for a second. He swam after the rowboat, catching up just as it came alongside its mother ship. He scrambled up the ladder in time to see a man kneel beside a gasping, miraculously awake Neglana, who was bleeding heavily from her head and arm.

The only woman in the crew saw him first. "What're you doing here?"

Chris held his head high. "I want to know what you're doing with her." He nodded towards Neggie. "I'm not leaving without her."

The woman smiled a little, lighting up her already beautiful features. Then it slid slowly off her face, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry. You're going to have to."

That's when Neggie spotted him. "Chris!" She jumped up and ran to him, where he hugged her with all his might. She hugged him, but it felt halfhearted. He realized how fast she was losing blood.

The man who'd been beside Neggie stood and came closer to the pair. "You, boy!" He said, putting off Chris a bit, because this man couldn't have been more than five years to Chris's senior. "You can't be here."

He let go of Neggie but stayed next to her. Inclining his head towards her, he asked, "What about her?"

"The girl stays. This ship is known as the _Flying Dutchman_. I am William Turner, her captain. We ferry souls that die at sea to the world beyond this one. You're dying, girl. You have a choice: to pass on, or join the crew and serve for one hundred years of mortal time."

Neggie raised an eyebrow. "And why in the name of high heaven would I want to do that?" Chris suppressed a chuckle. For a girl who was dying, she put up a very strong front.

"To postpone judgment. If you have done evil in your life, doing a good deed for one hundred years could help tip the scale in your favor." Neggie's face darkened, and Chris knew exactly what she was thinking. For more than six years, she had been one of the worst thieves in Port Royal, stealing every day, sometimes several times a day. Atonement would sound appealing.

"Nothing is certain," Turner said, "but it can't hurt. If you are at peace with yourself, by all means, let us take you to the land of the dead. If not..."

Neggie looked from face to face, trying to find an answer. Everyone's face was unhelpful, including Chris's. Even he realized no one could make this decision but her.

Trying to buy herself time to think, she asked, "What about Chris?"

"He returns to whatever he'd been doing before you died. He cannot come. By rights he shouldn't even be on this ship." Chris recognized the speaker as the man who'd rowed away with Neggie.

"Why not?"

"Because he's still alive."

Tears welled in her eyes. That startled Chris: Neggie _never_ cried. Fighting to keep her voice even, she said, "I guess this is goodbye, then."

"I won't leave you."

A single tear made its way down her face, cleaning her skin a little as it went. "We don't have a choice."

His eyes hardened. "There is always a choice," he said quietly. Louder, he said, "What if I refuse to leave?"

"You'll be forced," replied the captain calmly.

"And what if I still try to follow you then?"

A few of the crewmembers glanced knowingly at one another. Chris and Turner both ignored them. "You'll probably die."

Chris smiled. "Die at sea. Then you'll have to come back for me. Won't you?"

Captain Turner could not be fooled. Neither could the rest of the crew. The woman's eyes were wide with horror, shaking her head slowly. Many were having similar reactions. Some were just staring dumbly at the boy before them, unable to believe anyone would do such a thing. Turner simply said, "Yes, I suppose so."

Smiling recklessly, Chris spread his arms wide. "Why don't you save yourself the trouble, and just shoot me now?"

Before anyone could respond, Neggie shouted, "Chris, _no!_" She looked like she was trying to reason with a madman. "Don't throw away your life like this. Think of what you'd be missing. Your mum, dad, friends--"

"You're the best friend I have." He took a step away from her and looked the captain squarely in the eye. His heart was pounding, as if it knew it didn't have much time left and was squeezing in a few hundred extra beats before the end.

William Turner took his time with the pistol, giving the boy time to back out if he needed to. He pulled it out, cocked it, raised it, aimed…

_Fire._ Neggie couldn't keep from screaming as the bullet slammed into Chris, sending him overboard. Turner himself pulled him from the water. The younger man was bleeding heavily from a wound in his stomach, which would kill him soon.

"Do you fear death?"

Chris's dull eyes found Neggie's. The truth was no, he didn't. But in death, she would not be with him. "Yes."

"Will you serve?"

"I will serve," two voices said in unison. The captain turned to Neggie. "I will serve," she repeated.

Silence reigned for several long moments. All of a sudden it was broken by Turner's voice. "Back to work!"

There was a flurry of activity as everyone returned to the tasks they'd been doing before these two strange, desperate adolescents disturbed their lives.

William Turner himself did not move. He stayed, crouched by Chris, looking between the boy and the girl, both of whom unsure of what to do. He finally gave them their first orders. "For today, watch. Learn all you can. I'm tolerant of mistakes, but only if those mistakes are learned from and never made again.

"I don't want these next hundred years to be unpleasant, but there are some things that need to be done before we can enjoy ourselves. Disrupt the work, and you'll find that _I_ can be… unpleasant. Do you understand?"

Both of them nodded, a little frightened.

"What are you known as?"

Chris answered first. "Christopher James. Most just call me Chris, though."

The captain looked at the girl. She felt uncomfortable under that stare. "Neglana."

Turner gave a small start; so small, in fact, that barely anyone noticed it. However, he spoke as if nothing had upset him at all. "That's an interesting name."

"If by interesting, you mean strange, then yes, it is. You can call me Neggie, though. It's not much better, but it's a nickname."

"You don't have a last name?"

"No, sir. I was found on the steps of an orphanage in Port Royal, with nothing but my first name and birthday."

"I see." He paused for a moment. "Well, what are you standing around for? Go."

As they left, Will stood and walked to the railing, and gazed out to sea. That girl was something to think about…

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**I hope that this is better than last time. Tell me what you think!**

**-Arnold-  
**


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